


Somewhere on the way to somewhere else

by molegria



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Class Differences, F/M, First Night Together, I like to wave at them as they pass by, I love classic fic tropes, Kristanna Smut Week, Kristoff is a cinnamon bun, Post-Canon, Post-Frozen (2013), canonverse, rich girl poor guy, she said butt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:53:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molegria/pseuds/molegria
Summary: The road to Kollsvein was usually busy all year, but no other vehicle has crossed their path in a while. It's late in the night, not the proper hour for a lady to be on the road with a man.(Kristoff and Anna enjoy their first time at a quaint little inn. Rich girl/poor guy dynamics. Set a few months after the events of Frozen)





	Somewhere on the way to somewhere else

**Author's Note:**

> Characters belong to Disney, who would probably be horrified at the idea of them having a sex life.
> 
> Why is it that whenever I try to write a good ol' PWP, I end up sticking narrative structure into it anyway?

"Isn't your butt hurting by now?"

 

Anna's voice disrupts the silence that reigned over the sleigh, though not enough to break the constant rhythm of Sven's hooves against the compacted dirt. It's enough, however, to make Kristoff take his eyes off the road for a moment and look at her, chuckling. "Sorry, what?"

 

"Our last stop was four hours ago." The night around them is dark and heavy. The chilly breeze of autumn seeps into their bones, despite the sheepskin covering the sleigh seats. Their early dinner is but a distant memory. "I don't know about you, but mine must be flat by now." She shuffles on her seat, wishing she had put on an extra layer of petticoats that morning.

 

The road to Kollsvein was usually busy all year, but no other vehicle has crossed their path in a while. It's late in the night, not the proper hour for a lady to be on the road with a man. Some of the crown advisers had been against the trip — she should have taken a maid with her, at least, and guards, and a counselor, perhaps. "I trust Mr. Bjorgman with my sister's life," Elsa told them, and the issue was settled. Plus, Sven is faster than any horse; a trip that takes over three days would take only two and a half with the reindeer, one less night spent on the road. After the blow to the treasury caused by Elsa's emotional breakdown in the summer, any efforts to reduce their expenses placed a muzzle on the kingdom's naysayers and made for good press.

 

"Would you like me to check your butt, your Highness?" Kristoff sing-songs in the affected tone of a royal servant, stealing a look at her backside, and Anna feels she could either strangle him or straddle him. She settles for slapping his arm. "I was hoping we could get to Finnafjord before we stopped. It's a larger town, we'd have better luck finding a decent place to stay."

 

"We can stay at an  _indecent_  place, for all I care," she groans, throwing herself at the armrest in front of her with a flail. She arches her back and her spine complains loudly. "As long as it's warm and there's food. And a bath. And a  _bed_."

 

 _A bed with you on it_ , her mind wanders, a pleasurable wave of heat running through her body. The previous night they had stayed at a fancy hotel, fancy enough to provide her with plenty of working hands of the appropriate gender — no reason, then, for her male personal assistant to stray too close. She barely managed to steal a kiss from him while the bellboys weren't looking, then had to spend the night alone in agony, rubbing herself to sleep and dreaming of missed opportunities.

 

Kristoff pulls at the reins, unaware of her predicament. They stop by a road sign, and the light of the sleigh lantern dances over his chest as he lifts it to read the markings on the wooden post. "Well, we're two miles from Grenivik. We could..."

 

"Grenivik! Sounds perfect," Anna declares, stretching like a cat, then wraps her arms around his bicep and whispers in his ear with a laugh, "find me some gløgg and I'll kiss you."

 

He extricates himself from her grasp and replaces the lantern on its hook, a shy smile on his lips. It's too dark to say, but she knows from experience that he's blushing. "It's October. They won't have gløgg yet."

 

"Sucks for you, then. No gløgg, no kiss." She leans back on her seat, crossing her ankles over the front of the sleigh. Kristoff shakes his head with a sigh and whips at the reins to set them in motion again, but this time he doesn't push off her feet.

 

* * *

 

 

The inn stands out in the dark roadside, a lonely firefly just past the gates of Grenivik. It's an old but well-kept timber frame building, somewhere between large and small, with two overhanging levels above the ground floor and three chimney stacks spewing soot into the night. The lights that seep through the multi-paneled windows on the upper floors slowly dim as the sleigh approaches, like the guests had just been waiting for their arrival before going to bed.

 

Anna greets the gatekeeper briefly and rushes to the front door. Beyond the small entryway there is a larger, but cozy reception area. A couch and two armchairs face a wide fireplace to the right, and to the left the reception opens into a wooden spiral staircase and a dining hall, chairs piled on the empty tables. The only sources of light are the fireplace and a lamp on the counter at the back of the room. Behind the counter, a young woman distracts herself with a book.

 

A bell chimes as Anna opens the inner doors. The girl's face shoots up. " _Velkommen—_ oh, my goodness," she exclaims, all remnants of sleep gone from her voice.

 

"Hi," Anna waves sheepishly.

 

It takes a while to get used to the reactions. Thirteen years locked into a castle means she didn't often meet people who were dazzled by her presence. Even after the gates were opened, the people who lived and worked in the capital soon adjusted to the new routine of royal sightings downtown. The further north they travel, however, the more surprised the subjects of Arendelle seem to be by Anna's presence. It's worse in small towns like this one, though she bets there will be some fanfare when they reach Kollsvein as well.

 

The innkeeper gets up, hides her book and tidies up the front desk in a hurry. "Oh, God, please be welcome, your Highness," she announces with a brief curtsey, averting her eyes.

 

"Yeah, so, uh." Anna walks to the counter and points her thumb back at the front door, through which Kristoff emerges carrying one of her heavy leather trunks. "We need a room."

 

" _You_  need a room," Kristoff corrects her, then turns to the innkeeper. "She needs a room."

 

Anna scoffs. "What about you? Will you sleep on the couch?" She gestures to the area in front of the fireplace. From the look on his face, he was thinking of doing exactly that.

 

"Don't worry about me. I can stay with Sven, I'll be fine." He leaves the trunk next to the couch to claim territory, just in case.

 

"Two rooms," Anna insists, smiling at the innkeeper, and shoos him with a wave of her hand. He rolls his eyes and heads back outside.

 

The innkeeper leafs through a large leather-bound registry book. "I  _do_  have two rooms, thank goodness," she smiles in relief, then opens a drawer under the counter with a rattle; she fishes out keys from it, checking their numbers under the lamp light until she settles on one of them. "For the Princess I would recommend an ensuite right above us, it's just a flight of stairs. It has our largest bed, and the windows have a lovely view of the mountains in the morning."

 

"I'll take it. How much?" This is another thing Anna is still getting used to. Since she has been taken care of all her life, dealing with money is not natural for her; she may have great knowledge of the kingdom's macroeconomics, but still catches herself struggling with the prices of things. It's a skill she's intent on acquiring, though: Kristoff has been enlightening her on what to expect to pay for the products and services they see along the way.

 

The innkeeper hesitates for a moment, then lays the registry book on top of the counter and slides a finger over a line to a column of values to the right. The number next to her fingertip is so low, Anna wonders if she's reading it right. "Oh, it's a bargain."

 

The girl looks around at the empty room and lowers her voice, as if her boss might jump out of nowhere. She seems even younger than Anna; the inn must belong to her parents, or maybe she's part of the local youth, trying to complement her family's income. "I'm afraid our rooms are quite simple, your Highness, but I can assure you they're very clean. This is actually the best one I have."

 

"Simple is great. I love simple," Anna says. "And for the gentleman?" She points at Kristoff, who is back at the door with her other trunk and his own luggage, a much humbler canvas rucksack.

 

"There's absolutely no need—" The princess silences his complaints with a "shush". He leaves the second trunk next to the first and approaches the counter, shaking his head.

 

The innkeeper hesitates for a moment, looking from one to the other, then turns back to the log book. "Uh, the room next to yours is vacant, your Highness, it's of a similar size — but if the gentleman prefers we have a smaller one—"

 

"The smaller one," Kristoff cuts her off, looking at Anna.

 

"The one next to mine, and I'm paying in advance," Anna commands, speaking over him and setting down a heavy coin purse on the counter with a  _clink_.

 

They stare each other down until the innkeeper cleans her throat. "Well. That is... very generous of you, your Highness."

 

Anna turns her attention back to the girl and opens her purse. (Defeated, Kristoff sighs and mumbles that he will go check on Sven.) "Just 'Anna' is fine. And you are?"

 

"Astrid," she answers with a smile of her own.

 

"Lovely name," Anna says with sincerity. "Say, Miss Astrid, are we too late for supper? I see there's no one else down here, but we're both starving."

 

Miss Astrid crouches behind the counter to stow Anna's payment on what she supposes must be a safe. "It's no problem at all, Princess Anna. I'll see to it right away."

 

Before the girl vanishes into the kitchen, Anna adds, "You don't happen to have some gløgg, do you? I know it's a bit early in the season, but..."

 

Miss Astrid thinks for a moment, listing ingredients in her head. "I can arrange for that," she confides in a whisper, wrinkling her nose.

 

"Wonderful," Anna answers with a bright smile. Befriending this girl will fit right into her plans.

 

* * *

 

 

The lamp on their table encases them in a globe of light in the middle of the dark dining room. It glimmers on Kristoff's almost-finished mug of beer, and makes the little chunks in Anna's rice pudding gleam like edible pearls. The princess watches eagerly as Miss Astrid sets down a small glass goblet filled with fragrant, homemade mulled wine in front of her. The innkeeper also takes away the remnants of their dinner, a hearty lamb stew with potatoes and carrots.

 

Anna eats a spoonful of dessert, takes a generous gulp of wine and lets out a satisfied moan. Kristoff watches her in silence, checking that Miss Astrid has gone into the kitchen before he speaks. "So. Got your gløgg."

 

" _I_  got myself gløgg." Anna leans back and smirks, cocking an eyebrow. "If you still want a kiss, you can buy me a second round."

 

He chuckles. "You keep saying these things in public, your reputation will reach Kollsvein before we do."

 

Anna rolls her eyes and lays the cup back on the table. "One," she lifts a finger of her other hand in counting, her voice low, "there's literally no one here. Two, my reputation has been all over the kingdom as soon as they opened the castle gates. Three, since when do you care about my reputation?"

 

"I've always cared about your reputation." He holds her hand, the one resting near her cup. They never do this on top of tables, always surrounded by patrons and waiters, but here they are alone for once. "Maybe not so much about your  _reputation_ , but I care that people will say hurtful things about you. You can say you don't mind until you get blue in the face, but the fact is, they may really give you hell because of us." Her hand seems so tiny next to his, almost hidden by the shell of his calloused palm; his fingers are almost two of hers, with thick knuckles, nails bitten to the quick. He's looking at their hands, too, caressing the sides of her wrist bones with his thumb and middle finger. "I know your sister's trying to set you up with—"

 

Anna pulls her hand. "I don't want to talk about that," she whispers, picking the napkin from her lap and patting her mouth, then leaving it creased into a ball beside the bowl of pudding. She leans back on the chair, takes a sip of her drink and looks around the room. "If she wants that alliance so bad, she can marry him herself," she scoffs.

 

She isn't angry at Elsa, not really. She knows her sister just wants her to keep her options open, in the off-chance that she may find someone less... controversial to give her heart to. Even Anna tried to keep this in mind in the beginning, after painfully finding out that the "true love" portrayed by romance novels was a misleading concept. Yet over the course of summer she was introduced to prince after duke after count, and none of them ever instilled the same mix of safety and warmth as the ice harvester sitting right in front of her. It's only a matter of time before Elsa sees this, too: Anna has never heard the Queen saying she trusted any of those other men with her sister's life.

 

Kristoff lays his eyes on hers briefly, then turns his attention back to his beer mug. He takes a last swig out of it and puts it down on the table, licking the residual foam off his lips. "But eventually you'll have to settle down." There's an unwavering certainty in his voice, like any other outcome is as improbable as winter in July. "If not with him, with someone else."

 

They stare at each other, but this is not as trivial as choosing rooms at a small-town inn. "How about you?"

 

"What about me?"

 

"Will you?" She sets down her cup, eyes firmly on his. "Settle down with someone else?"

 

He huffs with a shake of his head as if the thought was absurd, eyes darting away from her.

 

"I lived alone before I met you." He looks down, picks bread crumbs from the table cloth. The gesture makes Anna think of orphanage meals and stone soup, a life she only knows from the few childhood stories he's shared with her. "I'll just have to learn how to do that again."

 

She remembers the first time she saw him: a mountain of snow in the shape of a man, eyes that looked right past her, speaking in grunts and short sentences. She remembers how he grew soft and gentle over the course of that first day, even after she destroyed half of his belongings and made him risk life and limb for her. How he cradled her frail body in his arms and whispered "don't worry about me" while delivering her to what he thought would save her life: the love of another man.

 

Anna shakes her head. "Well, this conversation took a depressing turn really fast," she concludes with a raise of eyebrows, swirling the remains of mulled wine in her cup and finishing it in one gulp. "I could use another gløgg."

 

This puts a grin on Kristoff's lips. He dusts off his hands and raises one of them, turning his head towards the front desk then back at Anna. "What was her name again?"

 

"Astrid."

 

"Miss Astrid?" She soon appears beside their table and collects their empty cups. "Another ale for me, please. And..." Kristoff searches the pockets of his pants and produces a few coins, handing two of them to the innkeeper. "One more gløgg for the lady, on me. Make it special." He winks at Anna, his smile filled with mirth. She answers with a smile and a wink of her own, then waits for Miss Astrid to leave before offering him a spoonful of pudding.

 

* * *

 

 

"Mr. Bjorgman said he would see to his own fireplace, but your room should already be toasty, your Highness. Would you like me to run you a bath?"

 

They are climbing the stairs now: Miss Astrid at the front with a lantern, Kristoff at the rear carrying one of the trunks, and Anna has made her decision. The plan — if one could call it a "plan" — is fully formed in her head, and requires little: only a moment alone with the innkeeper and her confidentiality.

 

"I'd rather have one in the morning, thank you." Anna is giddy with resolve by the time they reach the bedroom. It is simple indeed, but nicely sized considering the price. The room is lighted by two bedside lamps and the fireplace at the furthest wall from the door. To the left, a mirror hangs over a vanity that holds a washbasin and a vase of primroses. A door stands ajar beside the vanity, leading to the ensuite, Anna supposes. The night sky enters the room through a large window facing the bed. Miss Astrid was probably not lying when she said it was the largest bed in the inn.  _What a waste it would be to sleep alone on it_ , Anna muses. "Oh, just leave it wherever, Kristoff, I'm probably not even opening that one," she tells him as he spins in the middle of the room, adjusting the weight of the trunk in his arms.

 

He leaves the trunk by the foot of the bed with a grunt. "You could have said that before I hauled it all the way here," but there's a hidden laugh in his complaint. His eyes smile at her until he notices the innkeeper is also in the room, at which point he cleans his throat and reverts to business. "Will you need the other one?"

 

"Yup. Don't break your back," she waves him away as she removes her few pieces of jewelry, making a pointed effort not to follow him with her eyes as he struts out. "Uh, Miss Astrid? A little hand?" Anna points at her back, turning around to show the lacing of her outer bodice.

 

"Of course," Miss Astrid nods and closes the bedroom door.

 

The two young women share a moment of silence, the innkeeper working the lacing open, the princess letting the extra bit of oxygen add a boost to her courage. "Miss Astrid, can you keep a secret?"

 

Miss Astrid's fingers come to a pause over a loop at the small of her back. "As long as I'm not asked to conceal a crime, your Highness," she says with good humor, finishing her task.

 

"Oh no, not a crime at all. I mean, in some jurisdictions it might... anyway." Anna pulls the bodice over her head and shrugs. Still with her back turned to the innkeeper, she rummages through her coin purse. "It's just that... if by any chance you can't find Mr. Bjorgman in the morning..." She turns to Miss Astrid, hiding inside her palm a folded money bill that could pay for a fortnight of lodging at that room. "Could you just... leave his breakfast tray by my door?" She extends the bill in front of Miss Astrid's face between her index and middle finger. "Discreetly?"

 

The innkeeper stares wide-eyed at the money bill until a short rap at the door breaks her out of her paralysis. " _Oh_ — why, yes, of course," she whispers, snatching the bill from Anna's fingers and sticking it down her neckline. She gives a little shrug, grinning and blushing; Anna winks and jerks her head towards the door.

 

Kristoff lifts back the second trunk from the floor as Miss Astrid opens the door for him. Anna has to hold a laugh as the two make an awkward shuffle-dance at the doorframe: Kristoff's muscles flex under the weight of the trunk, while the flustered innkeeper glances back and forth between her two guests. She finally collects herself enough to step out of the man's way and shoots Anna one last conspiratorial smile before leaving the room. "Enjoy your night—your stay, your Highness. Mr. Bjorgman. Excuse me."

 

Anna closes the door almost without a sound, a shiver running up her spine. She watches Kristoff moving around the room, the way his vest hikes up when he crouches near the foot of the bed, how he dusts off his hands and rests them at the small of his back when he stands up, stretching with a groan. She waits, her hand at the doorknob, and watches him sigh and run a hand behind his neck until he finally turns around to face her.

 

Only then does she turn the door key with a  _click_.

 

They have been alone before, on the road, at the castle, in brief escapades to the Valley of the Living Rock —  _brief_  being the operative word. These moments never lasted long enough for her standards, and were never safe enough for his. They were always at the imminence of being discovered, and then... and then who knows what would happen if they were. She always argued that half the capital had seen their first kiss; it wasn't exactly a secret that they liked each other. And yet he would always look over his shoulder and jump at the far sound of a broken twig, pulling the reins whenever their hands started to get too bold, their lips too warm...

 

His thin lips are parted now as he stares at her. They close as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He takes a deep breath and breaks eye contact with a shake of his head and a chuckle, raising his eyebrows then letting them settle on a light frown. "I, uh."

 

Anna waits for him to go on, borrowing the strength and patience of the hard oak door behind her back. Her hands seek the ends of her braids over her chest, pulling at the thin blue ribbons that hold her hair.

 

"We..." He sighs again and puts his hands on his hips, but there is a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "We shouldn't be alone in a locked room," he states with a click of his tongue, then pats the ball ornament of a bedpost. "Especially one with a bed."

 

She lets her ribbons flutter to the floor as they come undone. The loops of her braids dissolve under her fingertips. "I owe you a kiss."

 

He sits on the edge of the bed, like the mattress is made of spikes and hot coals. "This will get us in trouble. If your sister finds out..."

 

"She won't." Anna steps out of her slippers, walking towards him.

 

He stares at her midriff, where her bodice had been just a moment ago. "She'll have me hanged," he whispers, but he doesn't get up from the bed.

 

Anna stands right in front of him, red hair cascading freely over her shoulders. "She won't," she reassures him again, caressing his face.

 

He lays a hesitant hand on her waist, looking up at her. "People will talk."

 

She lowers her face until it's inches away from his. "They already do," she breathes against his lips.

 

"Fair enough," he chuckles, and they're kissing.

 

She sits on his knees and wraps her arms around his neck, letting his tongue run over her lips and explore her mouth. He pulls her closer, a hand on her thigh, the other rubbing her back. The kiss is wet and slow, tender and lazy, tongues circling each other, the world forgotten. Anna captures his lower lip between her teeth and pulls gently, one of her hands sliding along the neckline of his shirt and finding the buttons at the front.

 

"Are you sure it's not the gløgg talking?" Kristoff teases, barely breaking the kiss.

 

"I've been hoping for this since yesterday," she chuckles against his lips, her fingers working his shirt open. "The gløgg just made me braver." She pushes the garment off his shoulder and runs her hand over the fine blonde hairs of his chest, finding one of his nipples. Kristoff lets out a small sound of pleasure and captures her mouth into another deep kiss. He then pulls his shirt out of his pants and opens the last few buttons, breaking the kiss only to take off shirt and vest at once.

 

Anna takes this moment to stand up from his lap briefly; before he can voice a complaint, she sits back, this time straddling him. Their kisses become deeper and harder, their breathing heavier, short moans escaping their throats. She leaves kisses over his face, rubbing her nose against his stubbly jaw, her lips sliding down to suck at the base of his neck. Her hands start to open the buttons of her own blouse.

 

He lets out a sigh, circling her hips with his hands and sliding his thumbs over the top of her hipbone. "How far are you planning on going with this? 'Cause I think..."

 

Anna shuts him up with a kiss. "Don't think, just take me," she mumbles against his mouth.

 

"Whoa, hey, hang on." Kristoff leans back, putting space between them. He looks at her quizzically, trying to catch his breath again. "I want... I'd love to, but..." She waits for him to find the words, caressing his chest. "There could be consequences. You know that, right?" He lays his hand very gingerly over her lower belly.

 

Anna lets out a sigh of relief. "I know. Of course I know. I..."

 

"Not that you wouldn't look adorable, I mean, seriously, but I don't think you'd want it to happen like this, right now, without..."

 

"Kristoff, look, I know. I know. It's ok." Anna pulls his face closer and presses her forehead against his. She can feel his eyebrows creasing harder. "I know it seems hard to believe, but I've thought this through." 

 

He pulls back again, a question mark drawn on his face.

 

Anna sighs again. She doesn't feel like explaining to him how she learned about this. It's a long story, one that involves growing up with a lot of unsupervised free time and a library full of forbidden books. Plus, observing one's cycles and fertility signs can make for a boring and occasionally gory pastime. It's not the kind of conversation she wants to have while sitting on his lap with their clothes half-off. "I know my body."

 

Kristoff raises one eyebrow, in a very good impression of Sven's judgmental stare.

 

"My period ended just before we left. I'm not getting pregnant tonight. Trust me?" He takes a deep breath, still sounding unsure. Anna rolls her eyes, frustrated. "Well, you got your kiss. If you don't want this, I'll..."

 

He cuts her off, pulling her into a soft kiss. "I want this." Another kiss. "I'd be crazy not to want this." He looks into her eyes, caressing her face. "It's just my second job, being a worrywart."

 

"My personal worrywart," Anna grins, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. They start kissing again, but once more he interrupts it and pulls back.

 

"Have you planned this trip around your—"

 

" _No_ ," she rolls her eyes again, then concedes, "I  _may_  have insisted on coming with you after I checked the calendar, but the trip was already scheduled and I had no say in it." They share a laugh, but then she sobers up. She draws the lines of his face with the tip of her finger, studying his serene gaze, the slight upward curve of his lips. "I want you. I want this to happen with you. And I don't want to miss this chance."  _In case it's our last_ , she doesn't add.

 

He pulls her into a hug, circling her body with his broad arms and resting his chin on her shoulder, as if he has read her thoughts. She hugs him back, running her hands on his naked back. He lets out a sigh and leans back to look into her eyes. "Let's seize our chance."

 

His lips are softer now, gentler than before. He helps her out of her blouse, then pulls the sides of her stays closer so she can pry the front hooks opened. She takes a deep breath, ribcage filling with freedom. "You wear too many clothes," he laughs.

 

"I'm a royal princess," she whispers against his lips and moves out of his lap, smirking. "I'm expected to safeguard my virtue." She pulls down her heavier outer skirts with his aid, then takes off her petticoats and drawers, standing in a pool of fabric before him. Under the warm light of the lamps and the fireplace, her taut nipples and the bush between her legs are dark shadows behind the thin linen of her white chemise. He wets his lips as his eyes roam over her body, up and down.

 

Kristoff pulls her against him. As she straddles his lap again, his hands slide up her thighs, lifting the hem of the chemise; his fingers grab her buttocks, thumbs slotting on the warm joint where her legs meet her hips, and he pulls her closer, sitting further towards the edge of the bed. The volume on his crotch presses against her bare intimacy, only the thick fabric of his trousers separating them. The new friction sends a jolt of pleasure up her spine, and she lets out a heavy sigh against his lips, her eyelids fluttering.

 

He captures her lips again and his hands continue on their way up, her chemise hiking up over his forearms. One of his hands steadies her back while the other slides over her front, his thumb circling her nipple and eliciting a moan from her. Her breast is too small to fill his hand, she thinks self-consciously, but he doesn't seem to mind that. On the contrary, he brings his other hand to the front as well, massaging her other breast with firm but gentle fingers.

 

She decides she's had enough with the chemise and pulls it over her head, letting it join the rest of her clothes on the floor. Kristoff reacts with a small grunt, dipping her back and lowering his lips over her nipples, suckling on one then the other. She sighs and moans timidly, lifting her body to push her breast against his mouth, to signal her pleasure at what he's doing — but it has the opposite effect, and he stops sucking and pushes her back down against him, fingers digging at the soft flesh of her butt. Anna takes this change in stride and ruts against his bulge, her delicate parts becoming so wet they dampen the front of his pants.

 

He sucks air between his teeth and grabs her hips more forcefully, making her stop. "Bed," he orders in a low, husky voice against her ear.

 

Shaking, she leaves the comfort of his lap and lies down on the bed, but shyness keeps her bent knees closed. Kristoff notices this and runs a hand over her white stocking up to a knee, rubbing circles there. Hesitantly, she lets gravity and the weight of his hand push that leg down towards the mattress.

 

He bends down to untie his boots and take off his socks, never for a second taking his eyes off her. There's a renewed hunger in them as they travel over her body, but when they reach her face, he gives her a soft smile. That's enough for her to relax, and she lets her other knee fall to the side, exposing herself fully to him. She chews on a strand of hair and watches as he finally removes his pants.

 

Anna lifts her eyebrows and clenches her buttocks at the sight of his nakedness. He notices her reaction but says nothing, just chuckles a bit. "Be gentle," she whispers half-jokingly as he lies on top of her.

 

"Always," he breathes back, one hand finding its way down their bodies and into the auburn bush between her legs. His middle finger slides down her folds, finding a hardened sensitive spot that makes her quiver with a gasp.

 

He looks into her eyes as he dips a fingertip inside her; she nods, trembling, and mumbles a wordless confirmation. Anna writhes and moans as Kristoff explores her intimacy and watches her every reaction to his touches. She wonders if he has ever touched a woman before; if he's learning from her, or just learning  _her_. Her hands explore him as well: the firm muscles of his shoulders, the wide expansion of his back, the hairs on his torso that lead down to that  _thing_  that made her so curious, running her palm over his length.

 

He lets out a deep sigh and slides a second finger inside her. He slips them in and out, stretching her open, testing how much she can take. She can take more. She  _needs_  more.

 

"Want you," he finally breathes on her ear, pulling out his fingers with a wet noise.

 

"Uh-huh," she nods, lips searching for his, her hand guiding his hardness towards her.

 

He takes a hold of his cock and rubs the tip over her folds. "Tell me if it hurts." He runs the head against her entrance, opening her like a rose in bloom, then starts slowly pushing in.

 

He's barely inside when she winces and touches his bicep, biting her lip. Kristoff freezes. "Hurts?", he asks, his voice full of concern.

 

"Stings a bit," she whispers back and wiggles a little under him, trying to adjust to the intrusion. "It's pretty thick." They both chuckle.

 

"Want to stop?" She shakes her head. He kisses her softly, pondering their options for a moment. "Put your legs around me."

 

She wraps her legs around his hips, locking her ankles against his butt, and looks up at him. There's no fear in her expression, just anticipation and desire. The new angle invites him to slide further inside her. He keeps looking into her eyes, ready to stop and retreat if she asks him to, but she just closes her eyelids and throws her head back with a sigh.

 

So this is what it feels like to have a man —  _her man_  — inside of her. Anna rubs her nose against his to soothe his worries. Her entrance still twinges, but it's easy to ignore once he starts moving in and out of her, his breath against her cheek. He starts slow, making circular motions with his hips, enjoying how they fit together. His hand is still between their bodies, and he searches for that special spot from earlier, pressing it down against his shaft as he moves.

 

" _Kristoff_ " is all she manages to articulate as a tingling sensation spreads from her core, down her thighs and up her spine. She tightens her legs around him and feels her inner walls contracting of their own accord. Kristoff grunts, moves his hand to grab her thigh and thrusts so hard she feels her breath punched out of her. She latches onto his hair, her other hand scratching his shoulder blade, and when he plunges into her again she lets out a cry of pleasure.

 

"Shh, love," Kristoff captures her lips for a moment, his whole body moving up and down against hers. "You'll wake up the whole place," he chuckles.

 

"Sorry," she laughs against his mouth, "so good."

 

He lets go of her leg, moves that arm to support his torso and wiggles the other under her waist, holding her flush against him. "Perfect," he mumbles then picks up his pace, burrowing his face against her neck. His low groans are muffled by the pillows, but Anna needs to bite her lower lip to hold back her own lascivious sounds.

 

He starts pounding into her hard and fast, his thighs slapping against the inner part of hers. She's going to be sore in the morning, but that is in the morning and now is  _now_. It all becomes too much, she can't hold it any longer; let the world know what he's doing to her, let the world know that she  _loves him_  and she wants him, wants  _this_  every night, forever, ever. " _Anna_ ," he moans into her mouth, messy kisses to silence her nonsense, as if nobody would have noticed. As if every single subject in the kingdom of Arendelle hasn't realized how they are always orbiting each other; as if every single restaurant owner hasn't seen them holding hands under the table; as if the rest of that inn hasn't heard by now the bedposts slamming so hard against the wall they must have chipped the paint.

 

She's on the brink of madness when his movements suddenly turn erratic. He throws himself against her a few more times in spasms, a hand closing in her hair; then he pushes deep one last time and holds it in, and Anna feels something warm flow inside of her. When he finally relaxes, his body collapses on top of hers, and he lets out a strangled sigh against her ear.

 

They stay like that for minutes, frozen in time, learning how to breathe again. Her body still vibrates in a foreign frequency, somewhere in the threshold between passion and bliss. If he had kept going for another minute, Anna thinks she might have died. She wishes he had; she hopes he does, next time. A wave of fear washes over her then, and she wraps her arms around his limp torso and hides her face against his neck.

 

She can't stand the thought of living in a world where there isn't a  _next time_.

 

Still inebriated, he kisses her cheek tenderly then rolls off of her, pulling her into a tight embrace. They look into each other's eyes, sharing soft kisses.

 

"I love you," she whispers almost inaudibly, thousands of other words hidden behind those three.

 

_I am not settling down with anyone but you. I don't want this to end. I don't want you to be alone again._

 

"We'll find a way," he whispers back, cradling her in his arms, and it's all she needed to hear.

 

* * *

 

 

When she wakes up, the room is painted in soft hues of blue and violet. Only embers remain in the fireplace, but at some point during the night Kristoff pulled up a warm, heavy quilt over their naked bodies. He is still there, lying on his back beside her; he's looking at her face, the arm that he just freed from under her belly hovering awkwardly between them under the quilt.

 

"Didn't mean to wake you up," he whispers, still hoarse with slumber.

 

"Nhrmh. 's still dark." Her voice comes out muffled as she burrows her face between his shoulder and the mattress. "Go back to sleep."

 

Kristoff sighs and turns his eyes to the ceiling. His arm rests on her back; it's not the most comfortable position to stay in, his shoulder will probably start hurting soon, but it lets her slot closer against his warmth and hide her eyes from the dim morning light, so she allows him. Plus, there is a pleasurable sense of possessiveness in the way his hand cups the round hill of her backside, his fingertips almost reaching her most sensitive parts.

 

"I still can't believe last night happened." His voice seems to float in a dream haze.

 

"Your hand is on my butt. Last night happened," Anna mumbles against his skin. He laughs at that, gives her buttock a squeeze and a playful slap ("not flat," he says, and she can't believe he  _remembered_  that), then he turns towards her and wraps her into a hug with both arms and legs, covering her face with kisses.

 

They snuggle against each other with little noises of comfort, settling back into sleep. "I should go," Kristoff says, making no mention of leaving the bed.

 

"Hmmnhnno. Way too early," she whines onto his chest, hugging him back.

 

"They'll knock on my room and find the bed still made."

 

"I bribed the innkeeper," she says like it's nothing, looking up at him. "Go back to sleep."

 

It takes him an eternity to find a proper reaction to this, followed by a full minute of laughing. "You are unbelievable," he tells her, eyes filled with joy.

 

"Admit it, you love my brilliant mind."

 

"I love your brilliant  _everything_." He rubs his nose against hers and lays a few more pecks on her lips. "Mind, heart, body, soul. Love all of you," he whispers in her ear as he adjusts his body against hers, seeking a comfortable position to sleep while keeping her in his arms.

 

Anna turns to lie on her back, throws both legs over his thighs and runs a hand over his arm around her waist, under the warmth of the quilt. Her garters came loose during the night, and she can feel her left stocking pooled around her ankle; who knows where the right one is. Kristoff's other arm makes for a nice pillow under her head, and she laces the fingers of her other hand in his. She glances up at the wall behind the headboard, wonders how much a new coat of paint should cost.

 

She looks at the window right in front of the bed. Miss Astrid was right. The view of the mountains is really beautiful.

 

Outside, the day is breaking; soon they'll have to get out of bed and act as if nothing extraordinary has just happened between them. Kollsvein is still half a day away, and after that she foresees a whirlpool of questions, answers, decisions, demands.

 

But right now all that can wait, Anna thinks, snuggling against Kristoff's chest. All that can wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was a month into writing this story when I realized I had averted the "There Is Only One Bed" trope. It goes to show that room availability should never stand in the way of your OTP.
> 
> Anna's knowledge of the rhythm method for birth control is an anachronism. Back in the 19th century, because of how it works with other mammals, it was actually thought women were most fertile during their period. I rolled with it anyway because contraception in 1839 was mostly based on abstinence, male withdrawal and sticking herbs on your cooch, none of which sounded very appealing for this fic. I'm sure my readers are all responsible adults who follow the 21st-century guidelines for safe sex.
> 
> When Kristoff was taking off his shoes, I considered having Anna hold a strand of hair between her upper lip and her nose like a mustache and ask him "do you think I'm pretty?", but she seemed too self-conscious at the moment, first time doing this and all. (She probably did it on their second time, and you just know Kristoff laughed and answered she was the prettiest girl he's ever seen.)
> 
> I'm like 101% sure Elsa knows Anna was thirsty for that D. Hell, she's probably getting all the paperwork ready for when they come back. "Welp, what can the queen do, gotta save my sister's honor now," she'll tell Kristoff while the trolls wrap him and Anna in full wedding regalia.
> 
> Also, this is going to remain a one-shot, but my mind fast-forwarded to Anna arriving at Kollsvein and having the following whispered dialogue with one of her local female buddies (or, alternatively, a very flamboyant male ally), both in fits and giggles as they watch Kristoff unload the sleigh from a distance:
> 
> Girlfriend/GBF: "So that is the Mr. Bjorgman of legend. I can see why you don't bother dispelling those rumors."
> 
> Anna: "Lovely, isn't he?"
> 
> G: "Very lovely. His thighs are as thick as your head, and his arms are as thick as your thighs."
> 
> A: "I'll let your imagination fill in with what could be as thick as my arm."
> 
> G: [giggles]


End file.
